


Overseas

by casstayinmyass



Category: Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: 1800s AU, Australia, Bottom Tom, Britain, Constables, F/M, Forbidden Love, Jailhouse visits, M/M, Masturbation, Pickpockets, Top Chris, fantasies, pick pocket Chris, rich boy Tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1848 - Chris Hemsworth is a pick pocket. Tom Hiddleston is the son of a wealthy constable. When the two meet as Chris is taken into the jailhouse to await deportation to Australia with the rest of the criminals, it’s a battle between head and heart for Tom when he must choose between the easy life he has set for him in London or the man that captured his heart. Who ever said love was easy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Thomas?!" The young blonde's dad called upstairs, and he smoothed out his fitted jacket. "Coming, father!" he called back, and combed his hair over in one last effort to look himself- the respectable son of a highly decorated constable.

"Hurry on, the social event begins soon!" "One moment!" Tom called down insistently. He jogged down the stairs, and his father looked him over. "You look... reasonable." Tom rolled his eyes. "Thank you, father. You're too kind." "You have to keep up appearances! Mina will be there." 

Tom stopped in his tracks, turning around. "Father, you said you wouldn't force me into that."

Mina was the governor's daughter, the national treasure as far as any London man was concerned. It was practically an arranged marriage between the two- royal constable's son and the beautiful future governess. But for some reason, he didn't feel anything for her. He wasn't warm in her presence, and he wasn't aroused when he thought of her. He didn't know why, but he didn't feel anything for her, even though he knew he should.

"Thomas, please. She has her eye on you!" "Yes, I've noticed. I think she's examined my body so much she knows it better than I do." His father smirked at this. "Well, you'll be 20 in one month. It's not the worst thing in the world to have the governor's daughter 'examine' you."

Tom sighed as they got in, looking out the window. He never told his father he didn't want this. He just couldn't do it. He was an only child, and his father had no other child to build up this life to. He really wanted to travel. He wanted to go far away, somewhere like Madagascar, Africa, Bermuda...

But no. No, he couldn't.

As they got out of the car, they heard a noise behind them.

"AH!"

They saw a man being beaten on his knees by three officers. He had dirt streaks on his face, and some rips in his white shirt. Tom frowned in concern, and they went over.  
"What's going on here?" His dad asked, and they looked to him. "Constable Hiddleston! This young man was caught stealin' a wealthy man's coin pouch!" Tom looked down at the man on his knees, over his light blonde hair that was tied back in a short ponytail and down to his face. His features were rugged, rough, as opposed to Tom's own sharp ones.   
The man looked up, right into Tom's eyes, and Tom shivered as he gazed down into the electric blue orbs. He had a small trickle of blood running down his lip and over his chin, and Tom lifted his eyebrows. The man stared at him for a second, then broke the gaze, looking down to the ground.

Tom swallowed. "D-dont you think it's cruel to beat him like that?" he asked meekly. His father turned to him. "Stay out of this, Thomas, it's not your place." He turned back to the man.

"What's your name?" The blonde scoffed, and spat on his shoe. One officer beat him over the back again, and he winced in pain. For some reason, Tom took pity on this man, and cringed as well. 

He was beaten again, and the blonde finally spoke. "Ah! Hemsworth," he grumbled, in an interesting accent. "Hemsworth, eh?" Tom's father asked, "Well, did you attempt to steal from an aristocrat?" The man grumbled again, but out of fear of being beaten again, he answered. "Yeah."

Tom held his breath at what they would do to him next. He wondered quietly if the man's body could withstand any more- yes, he had muscles the size of Tom's torso alone, but he looked terribly worn at present.

"Hm," Tom's father nodded, "Alright. Take him to the jailhouse. He'll await shipment away to Botany Bay there." Tom opened his mouth a little, but said nothing in protest. The man looked at him again, almost studying him, then they stood him up, throwing him roughly into the back of their vehicle.

Without a second thought, Tom's father took him by the arm, and they started walking up the stairs to the governor's building. "Was that really necessary?" Tom asked quietly, "He didn't do anything particularly horrible..."

His dad frowned at him. "Why do you feel so much empathy toward that young man? Did you see him? Nothing but a regular scoundrel. He stole! If you let 'em go once, you always see them again, no question, my boy."

Tom looked away, and nodded, asking himself the same question- why did he care so much? The man committed a crime- he deserved to be in jail. But Tom couldn't forget the look his eyes- the defiance, the sheer expression from the glare he gave the officers. It was as if he enjoyed the rebellion. 

Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully, standing by the refreshments as he imagined what the man's life must have been like. Maybe he stole for his family... maybe he stole for his own needs... 

"Oh, Hiddlestoooon!" A high voice called, and Tom was snapped out of his thoughts as he looked up to see... Mina.

"Christ," Tom muttered, and feigned a smile as she got closer. "Mina...darling.... you look," he watched her bat her long eyelashes expectantly, and his eyes drifted over her body. She was wearing a tight dress with a tight corset underneath, pushing her breasts up and almost out of her dress. Tom averted his eyes, still not attracted to her whatsoever. "Ehm, you look nice."

Mina pouted for a moment, then flicked her dark brown hair over her shoulder, touching his arm. "Try again." Tom gulped as he looked back to her. "Uh... very nice?" He asked with a small laugh, pouring some champagne for himself and her. "How about, 'sexy?!'" she asked with a furtive grin. 

Tom nearly choked. "Goodness, it seems my father is summoning me," Tom said, looking over his shoulder. He briskly handed her the glass he had poured, and nodded to her. "See you later, Tom!" She waved, and Tom smiled back. 

He felt bad sometimes. She practically threw herself at him, and if he was any other guy, he would be drooling at her feet. But he couldn't bring himself to have feelings for her. He just couldn't understand it. 

"Father," Tom breathed, "Pretend to be talking to me, I need an excuse." His father looked at him sternly. "I want you to make an effort with Mina, you know that!" Tom pursed his lips. "I wish she would find someone else. I'm just not right for her!"

The party went on, and after a little while of Tom excusing himself to remain solitary, the constable announced their time to leave. They left, and with his mind a little clearer, Tom began to ponder the incident with the man earlier.

He thought for a second. The mental image kept flashing back... the eyes, they were so blue...

"What's so blue?" His father inquired, and Tom looked at him. He must have been talking out loud about the man's eye colour. "The sky, father, the... sky was so blue today!" His father frowned. "Yes, I suppose, if you consider dark, gloomy and overcast blue." Tom looked away, and his dad squinted. "What are you thinking about?"

Tom opened his mouth, choosing his words carefully. "Just... how you were right earlier. About that guy. He would've just done it again if you'd let him go." His father nodded. "Well, I'm glad you see it now, Thomas."

~~~

It was dark, and Tom lay awake. He had a single candle lit, which he hadn't blown out yet due to his restlessness. He was tossing in his covers, and couldn't relax. He couldn't just lie here, when a man that hardly did anything is sitting in a cold cell! He had to do something about it!

But that's absolutely ridiculous, Thomas, he told himself, what makes this man any more pitiable then the next? But something tugged at him inside. Tom had seen the jailhouse before. He had watched his father go there, take people there, and had seen how to get there. He also knew the guards there well.

"Father, I'm going for a walk," he said, opening the door. 

He made his way out into the nippy night, and eventually came to the jail. He went in, nodding to the guards. "I'm here on business from my father," he informed them, and they let him in.

He looked around, swallowing as he inspected the cells for the young man. He walked past a few older guys that looked like they wanted to murder someone, and passed a few women that seemed like brothel ladies. He went to the very end, and in the last stall, there he was. His white shirt was discarded onto the floor, and he was using a torn shred of it to bind a particularly bloody part of arm from the beatings earlier. 

The man looked up. "So. What's this business?" Tom wondered how he heard him all the way out of the cell area, and watched his muscles flex, He was rendered speechless at the sight of this man, naked chest out in the open. "Business? O-Oh... no business, actually," he managed out. What was this? What was he feeling? It couldn't be... 

"Why you here then? To give me another few lashes?" The blonde asked, but he smiled when he said it. Tom frowned. "Why are you smiling about that? It looked awfully painful." The man shrugged. "It's the price I pay for getting caught."

Tom stared at him curiously. "Why did you steal it? Was it to provide for a family?" The blonde scoffed gruffly. "I can't remember the last time I saw my family. Nah. I did it for the thrill."

Tom thought he was joking. "What?" "That's right. It's damn fun, running about, picking people's pockets, stealing stuff. And if you're lucky, you may strike it rich one day," he grinned, shrugging his terribly muscular arms at Tom.

Tom swallowed, trying to ignore them. "Do your scars hurt?" "No, I'm just wrapping these for the hell of it, blondie." "Sorry," Tom said, then he looked back up. The man stared at him. "Why you here, though? Isn't that officer guy your father?" Tom nodded, but didn't answer the question as to why he was here, as he didn't really know the answer. 

"Chris," the man said, extending a grimy hand with calluses all over it out through the bars, "21 years old." Tom looked at him. "I'm Tom," he said, taking Chris's hand. His long, nimble fingers fit perfectly in the other's big grip. "I'm uh... going to be 20 soon."

Chris studied him for a second, and Tom hesitantly looked a little lower to watch the steady rise and fall of Chris's chest, a slight warmth at the tip of his ears. His breath hitched as Chris's grip tightened. 

Just then, a guard came in, and Tom dropped his hand. "Everything alright, sir?" The guard asked, throwing Chris a dirty look, which the locked up blonde promptly returned. "No. I mean- oh, Yes. Sorry, I was- just leaving. My father will be back to see him," he informed the guard, and walked out, posture straight, without a glance back to Chris. Chris stood with his arms hanging over the edge of the bars as he looked over the backside of Tom's body thoughtfully.

The memory of the man's silky touch was perfect. His eyes were captivating. The sound of Tom's voice alone had Chris a little hot. But he still wondered why the boy had come back.

Tom breathed out shakily. He was enthralled by the presence of this man... this man! This wasn't right- he had no idea he was... could he be...? Well, he had to be, judging by the warmth all over that he was feeling... it did make sense now why he couldn't like Mina...

Tom shook his head. Whatever this was, he couldn't tell anyone. He just longed to touch Chris's hand for a few seconds longer...


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Tom's father was on patrol, and he was left to do what he pleased. So he did what he usually did- sat in the living room and read his latest book that he was consumed by. He always loved reading- it allowed his imagination to run free. He had no obligations, no one he needed to be, only the character's depiction playing in his mind. He usually loved a good mystery.

He was normally quite relaxed by reading. But today was an exception, as he had many other things on his mind. He still had a hard time believing his feelings that he had acquired for the man.

He put his book down for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to imagine Mina in a night dress, slipping it off slowly as she walked toward him by a bed. He thought of her exposing her chest, showing him everything before bringing her lips to his in a soft, sensual kiss.

Tom bit his lip, waiting to see if he would feel something, feel himself stir at the image. But after a few seconds, he opened his eyes, and sighed. More than anything, it just felt wrong, as if he were bedding a sister or something.

Whenever he tried to think of Mina in that way, or whenever he would try to arouse himself in some way, his mind would automatically snap back to Chris' hard, rippled chest in that jail cell, how his strong hands had gripped Tom's firmly as his arms flexed...

"No," he mumbled, "That's not what I'm thinking about." But it was no use- Tom knew at the back of his mind that if he were to get aroused, it would only be from a thought of Chris.

The feelings that he gave Tom were incredible, like a small candle flickering within him as the disembodied embers ignited smaller fires in the rest of his body. Tom rubbed his temples. He had to accept it. He loved the feeling he got from these thoughts. He couldn't deny himself that.

"Okay," he said aloud, "I feel something for this man. Who's in jail. Splendid start," he muttered to himself, and leaned back, taking a deep breath. He didn't know what to do.

\--

Over at the jailhouse, Chris sat in the corner of his cell on a bed of dirty straw, picking the dirt out from under a fingernail. He had his shirt back on, as it was very cold against the stone wall, and he dropped his head back against it, looking up to the ceiling in boredom.

"Why can't that Hiddleston boy just come back?" He asked himself quietly, out loud, "He's absolutely gorgeous."

Just then, the brothel lady from a few cells down poked her head out of the bars. "Huh. A thief AND a homosexual, eh? You've really got somethin' going for ya!" a female voice with a strong cockney accent said. Chris frowned, and shimmied himself up to look out of the bars. "I've slept with plenty of women on the side, thank you. You're in jail too, you shouldn't even be talking."

She shrugged, taking his point. "Just makin' amiable conversation." "Your definition of amiable is hilarious," Chris deadpanned, and she smirked. 

"It's that blonde kid, isn't it?" She asked after a moment, "the one who came in last night?" Chris exhaled, and nodded. "He's a dangerous one to be flirtin' about with. And not just for you either- He's the son of the head constable!" "Yeah, I know."

"A real stickler, the constable is. You don't want to get on his bad side." Chris chuckled, thinking back to the way he had responded to his question the day before. "I think I already have." She raised an eyebrow. "Well all the luck to ya with that boy then- if he don't get pegged down by his dad and you don't get slogged for it, it's meant to be." Chris nodded once. "The odds are on my side. I can feel it," he said playfully, and she smirked again.

"I'm Shari, by the way. Well, my real name's Deborah Ann, but from all the years working I'd say I've even come to know myself as Shari." Chris gave her a small wave with two fingers. "Chris." "Yeah, heard. Well, we'll be deporting in about a week. Better tell this kid before then if you care at all about doin' something 'bout it."

Chris nodded. He and Tom had shared a moment with the handshake last night- it was obvious. But with the odds Shari had described, with all his own talk and ego, he didn't want to ruin the guy, (even though he had thought of ruining him in other ways), especially since it seemed that Tom had an image that he had to upkeep, unlike himself.

Maybe it would just be better for both of them if Chris didn't say anything. Assuming, of course, he ever saw Tom again. He decided he would leave the fate of their meeting in Tom's hands.

\--

It was late now, and Tom's father finally got home. Tom had fallen asleep in the chair with his book, and his father chuckled as he saw this. He set his constable hat down, and went quietly past him.

_Chris walked toward me. He looked deep into my eyes, and reached out a gentle hand to stroke my cheek. I couldn't help but whimper- I wanted more. And obviously, so did Chris, as he hooked a finger under my chin, and pulled he closer, his other hand running ramped down my begging body-_

Tom woke with a start, and turned suddenly to see his father preparing dinner behind him. He whipped back around as he recalled what he was dreaming about. He hoped to god he hadn't talked in his sleep.

"Did you have a nice rest?" His father asked with a smile, and Tom exhaled, seeing that he obviously hadn't said anything. "Uh, yeah. Thanks. What time is it?" "Oh... 9:30?" "Wow."  
Tom got up, rubbing his head and rubbing his hand over his face. "Hm," he said, getting up, "I finished my book. It was splendid- a real twist ending. The guy didn't end up getting the girl- he was killed by the escaped criminal."

His father smiled. "Sounds captivating." "How was your day?" "Very normal. Got some more for the cell." "Mmm?" Tom decided to air on the side of caution, spinning on his dream a little in case his father had heard him at all. "I... had a dream about Mina." "Yes?" His father looked genuinely pleased about this. "Yes, it was lovely." "Well," his father chuckled, "That's for you to know and me never to find out."

He winked at Tom and went upstairs with the newspaper, and Tom smiled back sadly with a sigh. God, this was hard. And not just as a matter of speaking- he had been hiding the erection he got from the dream with Chris with the book he had been holding, and he needed to get rid of it before his embarrassment became evident. He took some deep breaths, and the effects gradually started to wear off, much to Tom's relief.

A few moments later, Tom looked out the window, and noticed something. His father was upstairs... he could go back to the jail. But should he? Well, of course he shouldn't... Did he want to?

He opened and closed the door quietly, and slipped out into the night.

He walked along the cobbled sidewalk, feeling as if someone was watching him from every corner, every alley. "Damn," he muttered, very uncomfortable at the motion of being seen and having to offer up a convincing excuse for his late night walk.

He almost felt like the person in his book- though that character was not in love with the criminal. Again, very smart, Thomas, Tom thought sarcastically, breathing out slowly as he came to the jail.

"Sir," the guard to the left of the desk said, nodding to Tom politely. Tom smiled tightly. "Good evening. My father couldn't make it tonight again, but there's a pressing matter for Hemsworth, a matter regarding the man from whom he stole the money that needs to be discussed."

He started to walk in, and the guard followed behind with a baton. Tom turned back, weary at the sight of the weapon of offense. He opened his mouth a little. "Confidentially, if you please."

The guard nodded respectfully, closing the doors behind Tom. He heard Chris's voice, low and gruff at the end of the dank rows. "Nice excuse. You sure got a way with words. I'd like to hear what it'll be tomorrow night, silver tongue." Tom looked at him as he took a few steps closer. "What makes you think there'll be a tomorrow night."

Chris narrowed his eyes, hanging his hands over the bars. "You came tonight. What makes you think there won't?" Tom nodded slightly, and sat down by his cell. "Look- I want to know more about you." Chris frowned, his choppy light blonde hair flopping into his face. "Why?" Tom averted eye contact, and licked over his lips nervously. "I'm afraid I've got myself into a situation." "Oh?" "Yes. It's... rather frustrating." 

Chris looked interested, cocking his head. "Tell me more." The blonde didn't know what it was about Tom- he himself had never been very polite, quite the opposite really. If someone else had ever come in and wanted to vent their mind to him, he'd probably tell them to screw off. But this was different. Tom was interestingly different to him, for some reason that had yet to be decided. 

"It's not so much a what... as it is a who..." Tom said, swallowing as he felt his cheeks heat up. Chris could feel himself begin to grin, but quickly wiped the smile off his face as he wanted to seem like he was listening intently. "Go on." Tom looked up at him, and Chris had to bite his lip from the inside to suppress at least a groan from the sheer colour of those eyes, and how they almost glowed in the dim lighting. 

"I know that it's wrong that I like him," Tom continued, and Chris felt a pang in his chest. So he did like him back. "...But I just... my god, I can't help it." He got up and started pacing, looking seriously conflicted, but as he looked back to Chris, who was watching him closely, he realized he must have said to much, for now, it must be obvious who he was talking about.

"Is it any consolation," Chris started, eyes unblinking as he stared back at Tom, "If I told you I think the one you like feels the same way about you?" Tom's breath caught, and he returned the gaze. "And how would you know?" he breathed. "Because whenever you're around, he just...feels it," Chris mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. He reached a hand out of from the cell, and ghosted the side of it along Tom's cheek. 

"Really?" Tom asked meekly, and Chris lifted his eyebrows earnestly. "Really." The tension between them was enough to sear through iron, but after a moment, Chris dropped his hand, Tom's cheek feeling strangely cold without the presence of it. "And that's hard for me to admit too, you little scoundrel, I'm almost never honest," Chris said playfully, pointing at him and walking back in his space.

Tom smiled a little, then he looked around worriedly. "Word mustn't get out about this. My visits here are strictly to be known as me carrying out official business on behalf of my father." "Aye. I'm not gonna tell anyone." Tom visibly relaxed, but was still a tad on edge. Chris got a sense of how much was riding on Tom's public (and private even) reputation, and if he was thinking about Chris so much that he had to tell him, it was the least he could do to adhere to Tom's wishes. 

Plus, he wasn't about to tell anyone. He was already being tried for thievery, he needn't have another tick added to his resume. 

"Like I said before, I want to know more about you," Tom said, sitting back down. Chris stared back thoughtfully, before shrugging. "There's really not much to know about me. I was brought up in New South Wales, by a poor family. I don't know who my real family was, or is, or whatever. I just know I hated living there. We could barely afford a slice of bread a day, with two other kids too, it was horrible. So I left. I hopped a train over here to London, hopin' to find a job or something. I worked on a ship for a few years, when I was a teenager. But they didn't like me. Said I didn't fit in, wasn't like the rest of 'em. Maybe it was the accent. And even though I was a good worker, they threw me out, and I've been stealin' ever since."

Tom felt sorry for him. "I thought you said you stole for the thrill." "I do. I don't do it 'cause I need it. Hell, it's a gift from above that I'm even here right now, it puts a roof, however damp and cold it is, over my head. If I wasn't in jail, I would just be back in the street. My life isn't one of luxury, Hiddleston," he said, blowing hair out of his face, "It's one of living on the edge, doing whatever I want, and never regretting any of it." Tom looked down. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, secretly wishing, in a way, that he could be so carefree himself. 

"Nah, I don't want pity. I didn't tell you my story for that. My life's fine." Tom looked back up. "So what's to stop you from taking a train to far off places, if you did so here?!" Chris wiggled his eyebrows at Tom, lightening the atmosphere a little. "Far off places, eh? Gosh, mate, didn't know you were the pirate-type!" Tom blushed, and Chris chuckled. "Places like where?"

Tom pursed his lips, eyes widening a little in excitement. "Well, there's Africa, which has got some beautiful landscapes, Fiji, where I hear the water is absolutely gorgeous...." He looked like he could name a few more, but didn't. Chris rubbed his bottom lip. "You know a lot about them. Ever been?" He assumed Tom had, given the wealthy background he came from. He had probably done everything Chris wished he could do- travel the world, see the wonders.

Tom looked out the small jail cell window, covered with iron bars. "Not exactly. No. Ever since my mother died, we haven't been out of London. And I don't presume I'll ever get to go." Chris winced. "Ooh, wow. Sorry 'bout that." Tom shook his head. "It's alright. I've gotten over her not being around. Sometimes, though, I think just how different life would be with her. She always encouraged me to do what I wanted." "And your father doesn't?"

"Let's just say, father would have a rightful fit if he even knew where I was right now." "Sounds like a lovely guy." "That's what you get for being the son of a stuffy constable! The best one in London, too... Listen," Tom sighed, "My father's been nothing but good to me," he bit his lip, considering this carefully, "Because... well, because I've never given him any reason not to." 

Chris breathed out through his nose, and suddenly, the large metal door moved. Tom got up so fast Chris had to stifle a guffaw as Tom hit his head on a ceiling pipe in surprise. "Eeeow," he muttered, and cleared his throat as the guard came in. "Mr. Hiddleston," the guard said, nodding his head slightly, "Just came to check everything was going smoothly. We here know what a trouble maker this one can be, eh?" 

Tom nodded, playing along. "I've definitely noticed." He sent Chris a stare, and Chris' face hardened as he went along with it as well. "Go to hell, the both of ya!" the blonde said, going back to the wall of his cell, and just like last night, Tom didn't look back as he walked out, gracefully making his leave as wind whisked behind him. "That will be all tonight, sir," Tom said, and the door was closed again.

Chris sucked in a breath. He knew so much more about Tom now... he was more than just a face, more than just a memory. They had opened up to one another. Now that he thought about it, Chris realized that Tom was the only person he knew that knew that much about him. He never told anyone anything about him, and if the women he was with inquired, he would simply make up a quick cover history to please them. But without even realizing it, he had told Tom everything. He felt more than a little exposed now, but also...strangely refreshed. And he didn't regret anything.

Tom felt a surge of happiness run through him as he walked out. Maybe things would work out. Maybe it was possible, in some way, for them to keep meeting like this. But would that be all there ever could be? Secret meetings? He wanted more.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two nights since Tom had visited Chris again. And, just as Chris had guessed, Tom had visited again every night after it. They had learned more and more about each other each time.

It was night again, and Tom was sitting in his usual spot. "Were you born in London?" Chris asked, and Tom nodded. "I was born here, raised here, all that."

But now, since things were getting more personal between them, Chris decided to take the step. "Have you ever been to bed with someone, Hiddleston?" Tom swallowed.

He wanted to say yes. He could have said, "Oh, I've been bedded by so many! I'm very experienced." Build himself up to make Chris want him even more.

But he knew that he owed it to Chris to be honest. To lie to someone he had opened up to about something so personal felt wrong for so many reasons.

"No," he said quietly. For some reason, he didn't feel ashamed to be telling Chris this. "I wanted my first time to be special," he said, "And for a while, I thought it was going to be Mina- I was worried it would be passionless. But now, I know I can't sleep with her. My god, I get sick to my stomach when I think that way."

Chris looked at him sadly, wondering if that would be what eventually happened. Putting Chris' thoughts to words, Tom spoke.

"Chris, I don't know how this is going to work," he said, looking down, "How could we possibly be together if everyone would humiliate us for it!" "I'm already off to Australia, so it doesn't make much difference, one way or another," the blonde said. The nonchalance in his voice was, of course, fake, but it made Tom angry to hear him sound so careless about it.

"It doesn't mean we'll never see each other again," Tom said with a clip of irritation to his voice. "That's wishful thinking," Chris said. Even though it pained him to say this, he didn't want to raise Tom's hopes to have them shattered when they were separated.

Tom pursed his lips, getting up and pacing, which Chris had become so fond of. "But that's where you could be wrong," Tom said, holding up a finger, apprehension behind his eyes. "We could run away together!"

Chris actually laughed at this, much to Tom's desperation. "How do you presume we do that, blondie?" Tom exhaled, thoughtfully rubbing his bottom lip with his long index finger, a sight that made Chris' insides clench and made him bite his lip.

"I don't know. We'll find a way. Just trust me, Chris." Something in the boy's tenacious look of determination told Chris to believe him, for the time being, perhaps. Chris didn't answer, only stared. Tom stared back. It happened every once in a while- one would look into the other's eyes, and the other would catch them.

Tom felt his heart beat faster. There was nobody more beautiful than Chris. And the way he looked at him... created new, warm sensations, pooling in his belly. I want you, Tom wanted to say. But for reasons clouded, he didn't.

Chris wanted nothing more than to touch Tom. Touch him everywhere. Everywhere there is to touch. He wanted to make the younger man moan, wanted to watch him come apart, and then, he wanted to hold him.

This is the vision that made Chris hold on by the last few strings to the hope that they could ever escape together.

Tom left that night to go back home. He spent the whole time wondering, planning, plotting, coming up with ideas then shooting them down for impossible. He didn't know how he would get Chris out- he just knew he had to. He would die with an incomplete life if he never got to feel Chris' hands on him. 

The thought inspired that new feeling, and it made him throb a little, in places he knew he wanted Chris most. He sucked in a sharp breath, and tried to forget about it, not wanting to run into the same problem he did earlier with the dream in front of his father... He hurried back into the house.

"Where were you, Thomas?" His father's voice called from upstairs, and Tom cringed. "Grocery run?" He squeaked, with the excuse sounding more like a question rather than an answer. His father poked his head down, giving a stern look. "At 10:00 at night?"

Tom swallowed, looking at his hands as he tried to scramble something up. He was a very nervous liar- but miraculously, that never seemed to show. "I'm sorry," he sighed, pretending to be heaving out a huge secret, "I have something to tell you, father." His father came down, raising his eyebrows. '"Yes?"

Tom looked up. "I've taken up poetry. I take walks at night now for inspiration." There. Good alibi. Rather pathetic, but convincing, nonetheless.

His father opened his mouth a little, but nothing came out. Finally, he shrugged. "Well, they say poets acquire all the ladies, for good poetry is romance in writing." Tom nodded curtly. "Right. I'm off to bed now. Long night."

He got to his room, and slipped out of his cream-coloured button up. When his chest was bare, he unbuttoned his trousers as well, laying out his dressing gown on the bed.  
As he pulled off his clothes, his mind began to idly wander to the idea of Chris taking them off. He would take special care to remove each garment slowly, taking time to do so.  
Tom eventually realized that his left hand had started deftly rubbing little circles around his nipple, the other slowly trailing down to the place he wanted Chris to touch him so badly.

He bit his lip so hard it hurt, stilling his hand. This wasn't a good idea. He had not the equipment for what he was about to do, nor the shamelessness, nor even the patience at the moment. Frustration built inside of him, but the image of Chris without his shirt sent Tom into a second dimension of heightened senses and aching need. It was all too much.  
It was almost subconscious, basic instinct, when Tom licked his hand, and began to stroke around that area, ghosting his hand over his inner thighs as he revelled in the anticipation.

He felt alive- he had never done this before, not legitimately. He gasped in a short breath as he took himself into his hand, pumping slowly. The friction on his throbbing length was divine, and he needed more.

He kept on like this. He thought of Chris, strong and manly, gripping him and whispering his love to him into his ear. He thought of their nightly visits, how well he knew a man he had first met on a street being beaten. Those haunting blue eyes...

But as he continued to think about the visits to the prison, he felt the pleasurable feelings crawl away. His body turned to feelings of dread, of bottomless hopelessness. He imagined Chris being taken away on the boat, and never having a chance to see him again.

Tom sighed as he stopped. The warmth was gone, replaced by sorrow. It was no use- he had lost the feeling. He reluctantly put on his dressing gown as he shivered, and got into bed, feeling horribly melancholy, and blew out the candle. What if whatever plans he came up with didn't work?

Oh yes, he thought, adding to the misery, I must get my sleep for the luncheon with the Governor tomorrow. Wonderful. Mina.

~~~~

The coach bumped over the path, on its way to the lunch. Tom had put his best smile on, to try and convince people he actually wanted to be there, when in reality, he simply wanted to shrivel up and cry endlessly in his bed over a false hope. It made him scoff at just how pitiable he was.

They got out, and as soon as they entered, they were greeted by the governor. "Alastair!" The governor called, beckoning Tom and his dad over. The two shook hands while Tom stood back a little.

The governor turned to him. "Mina's just about ready- she's all done up quite beautifully." Tom gave a tight lipped smile. "No more beautiful than she usually looks, surely sir," Tom forced out, nodding.

The governor seemed quite satisfied with this, and took up chatting with the constable until lunch was served.

Tom wandered off, and soon, as promised, Mina came down the grand staircase, no doubt making an entrance as usual. The men standing around the base of the stairs fawned over her, kissed her hand, and she batted her eyelashes at them a little, but not for long. She strutted over to Tom.

"Darling Mina," Tom smiled, wrapping her arms, "You look so... " He decided to try a different word today, "Content." She frowned, looking perplexed. "Content? With what, pray tell?" Tom adjusted his collar. "Well, happy. You know, content with life."

She snorted. "You sound so stuffy- come now, follow me." She took his arm before he had time to speak, and she led him down a long hallway. Tom began to get nervous as he watched her look around frequently, as if she didn't want to be caught. He wondered where they were going. 

Finally, they came to the jackets closet for guests' outerwear to be kept. Tom gulped. "What are we doing here?" he asked, half pretending not to know and half hoping silently that he was presuming the wrong thing.

"Can't you tell, silly?" She asked, sending a furtive grin over. Oh, no. No, please, no.

"Uhh, umm, w-we shouldn't be doing this, M-Mi -" She looked around one last time to ensure They were alone, and cut him off. "Oh, do be quiet and kiss me," she whispered, and shut the door, surrounding them in darkness. To Mina, it was most exciting. To Tom, it was suffocating.

In a second, her lips were on his, and he let out a surprised 'mmph!' Mina brought her hands to the side of Tom's face, opening her mouth a little, and after a second, Tom did the same, slipping his tongue in her mouth.

They continued kissing, and Tom felt his body heat up. His eyes were shut tightly, and he could feel every jolt the kiss was sending through him. Soon, Tom began to groan, and Mina smiled through the kiss.

Tom's hands remained static by his side, but Mina continued to ravage his mouth, not minding the control. "Oh," Tom moaned, lifting his eyebrows. "Mmmm..."

Mina was triumphant. She finally got him to like her! Tom groaned again, and his heart pounded as he got lost in the moment, the darkness, the air of want and hormones. He imagined a certain blonde sitting across from him, connecting their lips heatedly as he touched Tom's face. He imagined Chris' smug face as he felt lips on his again, kissing more.

"Oh..." Tom moaned hazily, "Chris!"

Suddenly, his eyes flew open as he realized his mistake, and so did Mina's. The kiss broke, and Tom stuttered over his words. Mina opened her mouth, and Tom paled as he felt the tense divide. "Chris?" she asked, thoroughly shocked, "Who's that?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Ummm..." Tom fumbled, standing up suddenly in the dark. "Chris?" Mina repeated, and Tom winced.

How could he have done that? How could he have slipped up like that? Now, there was no taking back what he had uttered in the midst of the kiss. The name of a man.

And now Mina knew.

"Thomas," she whimpered, shaking hand pulling him down again, "Who is Chris? Tell me, or by god, I'll shout it from the rooftops." Tom gulped again. This was a terrible situation. He wished the ground would just swallow him up.

"He's... I... " He really didn't know what to say. He's a pick pocket who I just happened to fall in love with, so now I visit him in jail. Oh, that is until he's shipped off to Botany Bay for his crimes against aristocracy. It sounded quite bad, now that Tom thought of it that way.

He sighed. "He's... Oh... Chris is a..." he swallowed, "He's an inmate. He's in the jailhouse at present. I was visiting him earlier on business, so his name was... simply about my mind."

Mina was breathless, and looked rather doubtful. "Whether his name is on your mind or not, one does not mutter said name whilst passionately kissing someone without seeing that person in their mind's eye." She exhaled. "Tom... are you...?"

He ran a hand through his hair. He had nothing to lose. "Yes, Mina. I... I am. That's why I can't be with you. You must understand... or, no... how could you understand?" He sighed again, thinking of all the dreadful things that would happen now. Chris would surely be killed, Tom would be disowned or something, and his whole life would just be over.

Mina remained silent for a good long while.

"What are you going to do once he's shipped out?" She asked quietly, making Tom turn in surprise. He had expected her gone by now, out to parade around, telling her father, telling all of London that the man she was set to marry was gay, setting the future Tom had imagined into motion.

He stuttered. "I-I don't know." Just then, in a sudden overwhelming rush, tears sprung to his eyes and rolled down his cheek.

Mina tugged him down, looking quite speechless for a moment, then spoke again. "I suppose the only fathomable solution to your predicament would be to break him out."  
Tom sniffed miserably, wiping his eyes. "That's impossible. It's impossible to break a man out of prison with simply one man attempting it. The guards are the main reason why! "  
Suddenly, Mina's face lit up, and the most devilish grin covered her face. Tom looked at her, and frowned. She said, "Who said you'd be just one?"

Tom felt his heart stop. Had he heard right? Was she possibly insinuating...

"But M-Mina- you're the governor's daughter! If anybody ever found out-" "Oh, don't be a spoilsport, nobody will. It'll be fun, and I'll be back in time for tea," she said, clapping her hands together. "Splendid. Tell your Chris the plan, and meet me at the Wolf and Lamb pub on Main in two night's time."

Tom was at a loss for words. He never imagined she would be so kind about it, quite the opposite really. "Thank you," he uttered, and gave her forehead a quick kiss. Mina blushed at this. "Alright, let's get back, so they don't think we're frick-fracking each other's brains out." Tom choked a little.

When Mina opened the door, and let out a refreshed sigh. "Alright, gentleman," she called out, "I'm free!!" Tom was almost lost in the stampede of men, scrambling to win Mina's affection. She sent a wink his way, and flipped her hair, trailing the men down the hall.

Tom chuckled, feeling on top of the world. But he also felt nervous... would it work? And with Britain's sweetheart leading this espionage, the stakes got that much higher- They would have to be painfully covert.

He smiled brightly, rejoining in his father. He couldn't wait to tell Chris tonight.

"What's got you so cheery?" His father asked. Tom shrugged. "Lovely day, I suppose?" His father sighed. "That excuse is only good when it is nice out, so do be aware of your earlier lessons. You know- cloudy and dark means overcast, sunny and bright means lovely?"

Tom blushed. "Yes, sorry. I'm just generally in a good mood, I suppose." "Does it have something to do with that little journey there with Mina?" He asked. Tom licked over his lips. "Perhaps."

"Things are progressing well, I assume?" he asked, and Tom sighed quietly. "Better than you'd imagine." "Wonderful. You see? All those times, hiding at the refreshments table, begging to avoid her advances. Now look at you! Happy as can be."

Tom felt irked by this. What would you know of my happiness? He wanted to ask in a sudden seethe of frustration. But he cooled off, reminding himself of the act he'd have to pull until things were secure.

"Yes, quite foolish I was," he mumbled idly, and he thought of how the statement connected with how he had first viewed Mina. In the end, she turned out to be, not his lover in fact, but a good friend.

He was jittery for the rest of the day, and when night fell, Tom could hardly wait to get out. He slipped out quietly, not wishing terribly to have to produce any works of poetry for his father, and walked to the jail, as he had, it felt like, forever.

He went in past the guards, who were led to believe this was part of a nightly routine questioning with Chris. When he made it in, Tom split into a wide grin. Chris frowned, and hung his hands over the bars. "What?" 

"We've got you a way out." "What?!" Chris replied dumbly, then shook his head. "How?" "A... friend. I still don't know why she's helping. But she is." Chris raised an eyebrow. "When is it supposed to happen?" "Tomorrow night. Oh Chris, do you know what this means?!" 

Chris' heart warmed over at Tom's enthusiasm, and he could feel it rub off on himself. "Yeah, Hiddleston," he smiled softly, "It means we can be together." Tom beamed, and went over to the cell. 

Their eyes met, and their fingers intertwined. "I can't wait," the younger man breathed.


End file.
